


You're Perfectly Wrong for Me

by Wooshin_stan



Series: I'm after you (and now I can't let go) [5]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Crying, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mild Smut, References to Depression, between jb and mark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:12:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wooshin_stan/pseuds/Wooshin_stan
Summary: Old memories resurfacing, all the pain and regret coming back. All the mistakes he ever made. Jackson hated himself.





	You're Perfectly Wrong for Me

**Author's Note:**

> READ THE TAGS. Seriously.  
> Well would you look at that, this isn't posted 6-7 months later. Yay. It's hella depressing (or at least I think so?).  
> Title from Shawn Mendes' "Perfectly Wrong"

The crisp morning air filled his lungs as Jackson stood in front of that place.

"Never thought I'll be back..."

The street was empty, sun still hidden behind the horizon. The small white house in front of him was a haunting sight. So many years he had spent there, one night ending it all. With every step he took, another painful memory resurfaced in his mind, eyes stinging.

Creaking, the old wooden door opened, letting the man step inside the house. Everything was still the same. The bunched up blue blanket on the ratty couch, the coffee stains on the table. Washed dishes on the drying rack, dust falling on top. After all, there was no one to wipe it. To put the dishes away, to fill the house with the sweet scent of dinner, to welcome him with open arms, a warm embrace he craved so much.

With a sigh, Jackson entered the bedroom. The bed was half-made, one side nicely folded while the other remained disturbed, a cup now filled with dust and cobwebs sitting innocently on the nightstand. If he took a breath deep enough, he could still pick up the distinctive scent of peaches in the air. He hated it so much now.

The piano in the corner of the room stood untouched, keys taking on a yellowish color. He could still recall its chipper sound, tones cutting through the air like morning rain.

Ruffling his hair, Jackson sat down on the clean side of the bed - his side - letting his suitcase fall to the ground.

He ran away from everything. From this. He ran away, got picked up by Jaebum as if he was a stray cat, built a new, despite wicked, life for himself. Tried to forget. As if that was really possible.

Then he met Mark. Sweet, beautiful Mark.. with a slight sharp edge to his soft being, smile as beautiful as the moon. One person shining bright in a room full of grays. That's what Mark was to Jackson. Just like him.

Tears stung in his eyes. He drowned those out in the pillow, like Jinyoung did so many times. When Jackson didn't know, slept ignorantly right beside him. The single unwashed cup reminded him of the way Jinyoung used to hide his smile behind it, trying to keep up his serious expression. The bitter coffee he used to drink, which Jackson could never stomach. The wrinkled sheets still smelled of him, still felt like his embrace around Jackson's embrace.

The whole house reminded him of Jinyoung. Of how his and Jinyoung's perfectly right white-picket fence love went perfectly wrong.

He never told Mark. He was too busy grabbing onto his hand, hoping for something he knew would never happen. Too busy quietly hating Jaebum for having something he wanted so desperately. If only to fill the gaping hole in his heart. A replacement, a band-aid over the wound. Pretending that it would be fine, hurting someone else in the process of selfishly healing himself.

He still remembered the night Jinyoung landed on his doorstep, rain soaking through his clothes, begging for a place to stay, even just for a night. The one good thing in Jackson's life, a stray kitten wandering right into his arms. Jackson, being the naive good person he was, let him in, not knowing it was the beginning of his end.

So many things he chose to ignore when they lived together. The quiet sobs and sniffles when Jinyoung thought he was gone or couldn't hear, the blood left below the sink, subtle enough to be forgotten about during the cleaning process, the overly long sleeves on Jinyoung's sweaters, ever so shy to show his body. He ignored it all, kissed marks into Jinyoung's skin even as the other begged him to let go quietly. Never taking Jinyoung's hand when he reached out. Turning away from his scarred wrists, instead pushing deeper into the heat he learned to like so much. 

Jackson hated himself. He never truly listened to what Jinyoung had to say, never heard him out. He could've fixed him, could've picked up all the pieces the boy left behind, put him back together and love him more than anyone else ever would. And they would be happy. Build a family, live together forever, like a rom-com cliche couple. Happily ever after, right? But he didn't. And unknowingly, with every time they made love, at least in Jackson's opinion, every time he left Jinyoung's hand hanging in the air while he picked up the pace, another piece of the barely-staying-together boy broke off, disappearing into thin air. Slowly, Jinyoung lost everything he still had to give. 

Sitting up on the bed, Jackson's gaze shifted to the bathroom door. His heart ached when he remembered the sight. 

Jinyoung, in all of his naked beauty, eyes open, glassy, lifeless. His form looked ghastly underneath the water surface. Torn wrists, legs sticking out over the bathtub's edge, water all over the ground. The stale water mixed with Jinyoung's blood, stained red. Jackson's tears soon joined it.

How had he come to this, he didn't know. Yet he would do anything to move back in time, to be given another chance in Jinyoung's life. Or better, be given none at all. Perhaps he would be better off if they never met.

He lost Jinyoung, now he lost Mark too. He recalled the tears in Mark's eyes, hopelessly in love with Jaebum, ranting to Jackson about just another time Jaebum ignored that. The peaceful look on his face when he came and fell asleep, thinking the arms holding him were Jaebum's. How naive he was to think he could ever spare a place in his heart for Jackson.

Mark's soft lips, thin hips, that dazed look in his eyes. Jackson knew that look. He hated when Jinyoung looked at him with those eyes, desperate to feel something, anything. Falling back onto the only thing he knew, the only thing he was ever taught.

Sitting in the place he hated the most, Jackson cried.

-

Hungry hands ran over his body, piercing eyes closing in on his face, a deep blush overtaking his whole form.

Chest to chesk, neck to neck, Jaebum kissed him deeply. Mark grabbed onto his shoulders, wanting him close, needing him that much closer. Temperature rising, Mark's breath was cut off with yet another kiss, lips bruising, drops of blood falling off his bitten lips. A single string of saliva connected their lips when Jaebum pulled back, squeezing his waist.

"I can't stand his smell on you. I'll ravish you tonight, break you into pieces and put you back together. Again and again, until you can't remembered nothing but me."

Closing his eyes, Mark let his dreamy smile spread, surprised to feel Jaebum's lips sliding down to his tummy, over his hip, settling on his sore thighs. Jackson's bites littered them, Jaebum made it his goal to cover them all, biting into the tender flesh, coaxing the gentlest of sounds out of Mark.

While his mouth destroyed Mark's thighs, his hands lightly caressed his waist, his chest, finally grabbing onto Mark's own, squeezing tightly, with no intent to let go.

Cries of desperation rang through the air as Jaebum's body worked upon Mark's, legs twisting in otherwordly pleasure, their lips locked, hands still interwined.

Jaebum was just about there, a few more thrusts would throw him over the edge...

"Jaebum, I love you."


End file.
